


Send A Prayer To The Ones Up Above

by blackorchids



Category: Still Star-Crossed (All Media Types), Still Star-Crossed (TV), Still Star-Crossed - Melinda Taub
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Off-screen Death(s), Off-screen Relationship(s), Post Episode: s01e02 The Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth, Slow Burn, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackorchids/pseuds/blackorchids
Summary: If Rosaline believes she can convince the prince to change his mind, Benvolio hopes she's right. He just has too much experience with stubborn, mule-headed men drunk on power.





	Send A Prayer To The Ones Up Above

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys, can you believe that bit at the feast where Escalus did you know what to that man I'm in love
> 
> (title from Imagine Dragons' song, Believer)

Watching Rosaline allow herself to be dragged away from the prince’s presence, her head bowed low, is a startling contrast from the maiden who had been ready to bludgeon her assailant with a thick piece of wood.

Benvolio escapes his uncle’s presence long before their party reaches the Montague lands, turning off the main path and towards the smaller home where Mercutio often spent his nights. There are many bottles of sweet wines left on his shelves, and Benvolio intends on making good use of them.

The night passes in a blur, Benvolio imagining many conversations he might be having with his cousin and their mate were they alive and with him, and when the sky begins pinkening with the first hints of dawn, Benvolio throws open the main doors of Mercutio’s empty house and sets off towards the main town centre, one single place in mind.

 _Men who love their wives do not visit whorehouses_ , Romeo’s voice sing songs in the back of his mind and Benvolio allows his most charming smile, aimed at Freya, the working girl who is leading him into the den, to uptick just a fraction higher, flattery falling from his lips like rain from the sky.

Freya is all smiles, and Greta brings him a goblet of ale, and Benvolio searches through the living space filled with mostly bare prostitutes for someone very much different from the bride who will soon have him married and cuckolded.

—

His uncle’s scheme is tawdry and petty at best, but the man’s assured belief that Benvolio will not manage to gather the information he so desperately wants only serves to propel Benvolio into succeeding.

The little girl he finds huddled in an alley, dressed in rags and savoring half an apple she’d likely stolen, would probably do him the favor for a bronze coin or less. Another apple, maybe.

She gets him exactly what he wants, however, and it's easy for Benvolio to pretend he rewards her so highly for her good theatrical skills than because of her youth.

The news that Capulet House is broke is surprising and startling, but his uncle’s genuine pleasure with Benvolio for even the smallest of moments causes his belly to twist.

The news he is to go to the ball is unwelcome but not startling; Benvolio’s uncle is trying hard to recover from the sudden, terrible loss of his beloved son and he believes the best way to portray this to the world is by quickly and emotionlessly declaring a new heir.

Rosaline is easy to spot in her corner, the finely made gown fitting her just as comfortably as the maid garb she has worn in the past. Benvolio is struck with the sudden memory that she and her kid sister were once nobility, and that memory leads to the next: that one of his family members had been the one to slaughter their father.

His beloved bride-to-be is gazing wistfully at their sovereign, and Benvolio is at a loss to do anything other than provoke her temper. Her determination to not marry him has returned, and the knowing tilt of her head and smug purse of her lips makes him want to hope that she will succeed.

During the feast, they are seated across from one another, and Rosaline’s expression scarcely hides her distaste when their betrothal is announced, though Benvolio’s uncle is quick to land the Lord Capulet in the most discomforted seat of the night. Capulet hasn't the funds to finish their great chapel, and Uncle knows it as well as their sworn enemy does.

Credit where credit is due, Rosaline picks up on her uncle’s discomfort quickly, and her mouth twists with something like grim satisfaction when the discussion is ripped off its path into table-wide arguing.

Once the prince has not-shouted them all into submission, the remaining portion dinner is carried out in uncomfortable near-silence, after which the men retire into a new lounge to smoke pipes and stiffly discuss trivial things such as the weather. Prince Escalus takes his leave rather early, with the same expression on his face that he had when he chased Rosaline out of the chapel, and Benvolio wonders if the stubborn harpy will get her way at last, ending the betrothal and securing a spot at the nunnery while she's at it. 

—

 

The following afternoon, in the same town square where two men were executed just that morning, the royal Prince Escalus and his sister haul Benvolio and Rosaline to the marketplace to announce the news of House Montague and House Capulet putting aside their quarrel so that their two young members may wed.

Benvolio wonders if he is imagining the lingering blood on the stone pavers. Almost laughs when he considers the irony of executions for both families on the day their families are announced to unite as one through marriage.

Escalus describes forbidden lovers and a passion that will not be quelled, and Benvolio is almost embarrassed simply listening to it, before he even realizes that many eyes in the marketplace are watching the pair of them consideringly. Escalus gives Benvolio a look that promises swift retribution when he realizes Benvolio and Rosaline are some distance apart and in no way looking to change that, so the young Montague swallows tightly and shuffles closer to his bride-to-be.

Rosaline, for her part, looks placid and resigned, but there is no other expression lurking behind her eyes, and Benvolio had thought her closed off prior to this day. She looks like a stone wall, gives nothing away, turns towards him and places one hand on his arm, the crisp silken fabric of her new gown—noticeably more luxurious than the serving girls’ garb she and her sister frequented.

After he'd been caught in the rafters, Benvolio had left his clever hideaway for dead and near sprinted to the Montague land, shutting himself in his quarters and dismissing the page. He knows not what Rosaline and the prince discussed, but he doubts it was anything good, if she is here to marry him, when the night previous she had been kissing the prince.

There are some crude statues of himself and the lady in wedding formal wear, and Benvolio swears he hears the sharp twang of an arrow being fired, and the figurines are bursting up into flames.

The marketplace goes quite mad, and Prince Escalus must think he sees the perpetrator, because he abandons his sentry post next to the pair of them to run off into the melee, sword drawn, his most princely expression of condemnation on his face.

The cart explodes, as though someone had filled the bottom of it with the fireworks, and Benvolio pulls Rosaline away and pushes pushes down to avoid the debris flying towards them. She must be startled from the sudden act of violence, because she neglects to snap at him for the rescue, and she stays huddled near to him, the pair of them unnoticed, while people rush by, screaming and shouting in fear.

She does follow him when he renters the bedlam, when other ladies would have known or even preferred to stay safely off to the side. His lovely shrew of a betrothed does not flinch at the blood, does not shy away when an injured peasant grabs at her gown with red-coated hands, scarcely blinks when the murmurs of cursed unions become audible shouts of consternation.

Her steady path’s desired end is made obvious when they near the small group of dirty peasant children, the girl from his scheming among them, and Rosaline immediately starts taking stock of their well being with the ease of someone who had been charged with the task of looking after her spirited younger cousin many times in the past.

Benvolio thinks to keep watch, but only manages a cursory glance around before Rosaline is directing him to assist her in lifting the only child who is injured quite severely. He listens to her quite instinctively, carries the boy the small distance to the Friar’s chapel, cannot stop glancing at the bloodied handprint on Rosaline’s crisp, nobility gown.

**Author's Note:**

> i am still so stoked about this show!!! come talk to me about the show or leave a prompt on tumblr [@ rosalinesbenvolio](http://www.rosalinesbenvolio.tumblr.com)!


End file.
